A little known way to make the world better

When it comes to innocent young children, most adults talk a good game but rarely back it up.

Bert Pfiester would never, ever put it that way, but that’s how it seems to me.

Pfiester runs Respite Care of San Antonio (Link), which provides help to families of children with developmental disabilities or complex medical problems.

The organization, which offers care for children and well-needed time-outs for parents, gets plenty of financial support from the community. As was the case with the recent Chairs for Children fundraiser, which drew 350 people to an auction party, there are plenty of big-hearted folks willing to crack open their wallets.

Time, contact and real commitment, however, are much more precious commodities.

The pause that refreshes

Respite Care began as a program to give parents a break. Giving around-the-clock care for a child with severe problems is time-consuming, tiring and can push the best parent to the breaking point. And that, in turn, creates a bad environment for everyone in the family.

With Respite Care, adults get time off to rest, work, go to school, relax or even — dare I say it — have some fun.

Respite Care began with in-home visits, but that became overwhelming and an insurance risk. Plus, the staff felt that kids getting in-home care were isolated, and needed interaction with others.

In a place of healing, someone is goofing on the boss

Now it’s all about the organization’s day care facility and the Davidson Respite House, located a block apart in Monte Vista. There, a large medical and daycare staff tends to the needs of children. Both facilities are unique in the city and the state in their mission to take care of special needs kids.

The Davidson House, located in a great old home just south of Woodlawn, is the state’s only emergency shelter for special needs kids in state foster care. These are children who’ve been yanked from bad environments and have problems that are beyond the scope of the average foster care family or facility. A rotating cast of 20-24 children are in the facility at any given time.

If you don’t like din, this is not the place for you. A young man approached me Tuesday with a book about sharks. He had no point, other than being friendly and liking sharks. Two other boys just gave me random hugs. It was cool.

The boys, of which there are plenty right now, take great delight in calling Pfiester “Mr. B.” They clearly like the way it sounds, because they repeated it a lot. You can interpret that as the boys being affectionate toward a very nice guy, but I think the little guys were saying it over and over to goof on him. That was the highlight of my tour — boys being boys.

The agency holds Mother’s Day Out twice a week for working or low-income mothers. It also does a Parent’s Night Out on Friday evenings and Family Day Out on Saturday. The idea, Pfiester said, is for the family to feel okay about 1) having fun and 2) leaving their child with someone else.

The next step

But as Respite Care takes its next step and tries to ramp up a pool of foster parents, Pfiester feels as though the agency is dropping the ball.

By law, kids must leave the shelter after 4 months. But the state foster care system is at its limit and is desperate for parents. That means it’s always working in emergency mode. And that means that kids often end up anywhere they can possibly land. Foster care parents, while great with the average kid, aren’t trained for special needs kids.

So Pfiester and his board came up with the idea to create their own pool of foster parents. They’d be trained and licensed — all of it tweaked by Respite Care staff — and then there could be an easy transition for kids leaving the shelter. Not only that, but the Respite Care parents would have access to the agency’s expertise, such as the clinic and time-out programs.

The unhappy ending

Pfiester is invited to talk to large groups all over town. And everyone in every crowd means well, and many donate to the facility. But when Pfiester makes the pitch for foster parents, there is little response.

“I’ll speak to 300 people, and they’re all very receptive and mean well,” he said, “but afterward, not one of them stays to talk, or to give me (their information).”

It clearly bugs him.

“This is something,” he says, “at which we’ve failed miserably.”

Pfiester’s wrong. He’s not failing. His agency isn’t failing.

We’re the ones who are failing. We’re letting our fear of the unknown keep us from doing what’s right. Many of us complain daily about Big Government screwing everything up. Well, here’s a chance to prove that private industry — us — can do a better job than the state. Any takers?

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